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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/28034280">Night</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/awcomeonmanisuckatusernames/pseuds/awcomeonmanisuckatusernames'>awcomeonmanisuckatusernames</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Henry Stickmin Series (Video Games)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Character Study, Fluff and Angst, Pardoned Pals Ending | PP (Henry Stickmin), Paternal Instinct, at a Bar, backstory headcanons</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-12-12</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-12-12</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-18 11:15:14</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>3,461</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/28034280</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/awcomeonmanisuckatusernames/pseuds/awcomeonmanisuckatusernames</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Galeforce's troops go out to celebrate at a bar after two thieves help them defeat the Toppats, and the General finds that one of his soldiers is sitting in solitude.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Charles Calvin &amp; Hubert Galeforce, Hubert Galeforce and Charles Calvin, Hubert Galeforce and Rupert Price, Rupert Price and Hubert Galeforce</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>10</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>44</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Night</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Takes place following Pardoned Pals ending.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>A sour thing spread across his tongue, swirling and stinging his throat, and he pulled the glass away from his lips, and he hoped that whatever was in it would add life to his eyes.</p><p>He set it down on the bar, the non-alcoholic <em> thing </em>still on his tongue, he internally commended his own bravery.</p><p>What it felt like to refrain from drinking at times like this, when the immediate danger was no longer within arm’s length. It might be close, but nevertheless, it was beyond what the military had been used to these last few months, dealing with the Toppats most intense operation.</p><p>They were set to fail, they didn’t have enough soldiers, resources, or surprise. They’d been betting on pure luck, and boy, did it deliver.</p><p>So now they were celebrating. It was supposed to be at a proper rented out restaurant, but luck wouldn’t have it. There must have been limited funding. They had settled instead for a seedy bar off the road.</p><p>It was all very odd. Almost outlandish, how they’d gotten to this point.</p><p>General Galeforce had been recognized for his risqué efforts in acquiring what the government-aided ceremony called, a “skillful resource secrecy” meaning recruiting a 28-year-old thief who had little to no direction in life, living in a shitty apartment, surviving off of sugary cereals and the occasional energy drink.</p><p>It was one of those things that made a fine and dandy story, ‘cause everyone gives you shit for it beforehand. Of course, if people give you shit before something works, it doesn’t mean they won’t stop even after they have been proven wrong. Pettiness is powerful and in a place where robust pride worn on high shoulders is usually not just dealt with but outright <em> praised </em>, people weren’t in a hurry to apologize for it or even hide it.</p><p>Thus, the General dealt with a lot of pouty faces and disgruntled soldiers and officers and assholes.</p><p>Though, the asshole he was currently standing across from was a fine exception.</p><p>Stone-faced as usual, with dark hair and darker eyes, cadet Rupert Price caught the General’s eye, simply because he looked as if someone had spit in his coffee this morning.</p><p>Unlike the other soldiers, who drank and laughed and roared and spat in the booths at one another, smiling and wheezing and sometimes drowsily singing, celebrating these fleeting moments of success, Rupert Price was seated off to the side, alone at the bar, sipping something, his features worn, not quite somber, but with a calm irritation just beneath the surface.</p><p>Despite knowing he would regret it, the General had let his legs wander, over to the lonely bar stool beside his soldier.</p><p>“Prices too high for ya?”</p><p>The cadet lifted his eyes, appearing oddly young in the warm light. He held his head higher on instinct, a sure sign of ingrained routine respect for his superior, and the General sat down, allowing himself to slouch in response.</p><p>The younger cadet spoke simply,</p><p>“Just babysitting something stronger than usual,”</p><p>Believable. Price rarely drank anything very hard, as far as he’d seen. Unlike Konrad, or Calvin or Charlie, who were heavy drinkers, Charlie in particular would drink anything put in front of him, the General knew. Of course it wasn’t surprising. He’d been the youngest on the force for so long, surely determined to display his newfound ability to drink in the open, alongside his friends and fellow troops when he first became able. It seemed a trait that he hadn’t shaken since last year, though maybe that was a result of their few and far between successes...</p><p>The General had remembered a certain day in particular, he cringed recalling the cheers followed by jeers and especially the vomit.</p><p>He shook his head slightly, and glanced at his soldier’s still tired eyes.</p><p>“Most people would be happy we just stopped a dangerous criminal organization from rendering themselves damn near unstoppable…”</p><p>His words weren’t hostile by any means, (he’d hoped), yet still the soldier seemed to creep back into a mental hole, his body seemingly swallowing itself as his head lowered and his shoulders raised.</p><p>He muttered something, barely audible,</p><p>“...we were pretty close to letting that happen, though, weren’t we..?”</p><p>Ah. Of course.</p><p>Most of Galeforce’s soldiers were awfully young. His most experienced and proficient pilot is a barely 22-year-old who joined the force when he was 17. The majority were under thirty, and tended to hold a youthful outlook. As much as their work hardened them, some were still practically <em> kids </em>...</p><p>Hubert shook that thought from his head. He was supposed to have shaken that thought <em> years </em>ago. Despite what instinct may dictate, perceiving your soldiers as that unique vulnerability that was youthfulness was dangerous, and took an added toll on you; a forceful shot to your already damaged mental health if you dared entertain it.</p><p>Still. When an 18-year-old gets rapidly promoted simply because the government’s grown desperate, and he’s physically decent, it messes with your head to put him on front lines.</p><p>See, the CCC took all the best people. Honest. They’d made such a goddamn dilemma for the big guys in charge. They’d taken a large amount of government-funded resources, adopted strong, skilled newcomers and offered them far better conditions than the military could offer. It was particularly recently, within the last few years where they’d made such astounding types of technological advancements kept so well-hidden, even the big guys in charge at the government had mere shreds of knowledge at this point. The the CCC had advertised themselves in secret, in solitude, and so they were lavish to the eyes of the powerful and the willing.</p><p>  Corruption lied everywhere, no doubt within the CCC, yet, they acted as if such a concept were wholly impossible.</p><p>The government, knowing full-well the destructive measures of the CCC, and the freedom of control it operated with (a control dismissive of the government's authority, mind you) meant a war- a brief, momentary war, before the government seemed to have been put in their place and the CCC feigned a compromise. Written in ink, it might as well have said “Fuck off.”</p><p>So, desperate and already falling apart for various reasons, the government got panicky and has been and is currently swallowing up any kid who dips their toes into the work with mindless curiosity. And it all but captures them, playing with words, soft threats and subtle things like blackmail and lies. They’d operated with corruption, most certainly. Oh, but what could they do?</p><p>And it’s twisted, but Hubert was one of the few who acted as if they were blameless- the superiors, the invisible ones in charge who made the decisions, the people who he could feel, like hungry eyes on his back, but who he could not see- these people he did not reprimand in quiet gossip, if only truthfully to spare his own conscience. He’d seen them in himself, no doubt, everywhere, all the time, even in this particular moment; himself in the shiny brown of the wooden bar, reflected in the glistening sheen, a shadow in charge.</p><p>He took another sip of his orange drink. His throat stung one again.</p><p>He looked to his soldier,</p><p>“Yep. Pretty damn close.”</p><p>That didn’t help the raven-haired soldier feel any better it seemed, his lips still lazy, his eyes still narrowed.</p><p>He tried again,</p><p>“But we did it, Price.”</p><p>The soldier turned to face him,</p><p>“Yeah,” he bore his teeth,</p><p>“Only because two psycho thieves decided we were worth <em> it. </em>”</p><p>The General felt himself grimace. Well, when you put it like that it really did make things seem so much more bitter.</p><p>Talk about looking at the world through jade colored glasses...</p><p>The General swallowed his saliva, hoping to cleanse his throat of the sticky sweet liquid he’d been forcing down in slight excess.</p><p>He let his eyes gaze up at the ceiling. He felt his head nod back and forth silently.</p><p>“You ever heard that one saying?”</p><p>Price turned his head interest, that ever present inquisitiveness, as bleak as its mask had been, bore itself in his big brown eyes,</p><p>He shook his head slightly, skepticism fluttering in the air, dry anger ready to dismiss an old proverb, stubborn lips more than ready to groan at any pretty words to come, but desperate, desperate eyes awaiting, daring, but hoping, for some wisdom…</p><p>“I believe he was a very wise man… he said, <em> Don’t Worry, Be Happy,” </em></p><p>On cue, the soldier groaned still.</p><p>“You know sometimes you're just like Charles,” he breathed, a tangential thought, whispered through the whisky from his lips.</p><p>The General raised a brow,</p><p>“How so?”</p><p>A breath in through the nose, Rupert brought his chest up once again, as if it would frighten away the drunkenness fighting its way into his system, the tired bones mixed with all the mental tolls military combat takes on someone, his silent pride must have resisted practicality for once, miscalculating just how much his body could take on this night.</p><p>“He’s worked with you for awhile, right? Must be why you’re so close… He’s one of the ‘most experienced,’ right? I always thought that was weird. He’s just a kid. Musta been one of the first sucked into the government’s whole parade of things. When they very <em> clearly </em> got desperate.”</p><p>It was a few years ago now, and the General hadn’t thought about it in awhile, but as usual, Price was probably right. Charlie joined around that time. When the government had gotten really desperate, around 5 or 6 years ago, he was one of the first on board. </p><p>It became a sort of joke, that the government would take anyone, and then it became sort of a sicker joke, the more true it got to be. ‘Cause maybe it’s always been true, but it got more obvious.</p><p>  Galeforce’s particular department became more secret, he became the leader of those who were meant for mainly special operations.</p><p>To his surprise, many young members were “climbing the ranks rapidly,” though this was due so significantly to desperation. They needed people. The trials got shorter, easier, some even were ignored.</p><p>Ambition seemed lost in many, save for a bright-eyed, chubby-faced 18-year-old who many more stern officers always referred to as a very dry, irritated heave, <em> “Calvin.”  </em></p><p>Though as a way to perhaps subtlety diminish the harshness of that biting name, Galeforce had found himself calling him Charlie.</p><p>He was clumsy, and cheerful, and shamelessly kind. And so of course, while many officers merely dismissed this, there were a  few who challenged it. Rather gruff in nature, some could not understand and found themselves irritated, confused or bitter at his attitude. Even worse, Charlie might’ve acted as a red flag to the senior officers, the ones who’d been used to the traditional ways and settings. They were already sour at the changes, and Charlie was one of the first trainees who was let in through limited background check, limited testing, and the newly limited restrictions. Granted, this was the start of these limitations, they weren’t as bad as they were when the twins were brought aboard, (he hears all they had to do was keep from being at each other’s throats half the time.) Still, Charlie was unpopular for the start of his military career.</p><p>But he worked hard, never gave up, and lord, was he <em> talented </em>.</p><p>He was always upbeat, committed, and he <em> excelled </em> behind any wheel. He made it look easy. He broke some rules, ignored some warning signs, which terrified operatives, who once again, were still used to heavy restrictions that had been lifted or altered to minimum capacity, but managed to make a name for himself. At least in the General’s eyes, who ended up having to work closely with him, as the only one who was not afraid to ride in the helicopter of the trainee who was so brash he thought it efficient to maneuver himself through the most highly intricate design of buildings, to nose dive into so many decelerations, to break records getting into the air like it was nothing.</p><p>Self-preservation was a skill he <em> still </em>needed to be taught, yes. And the General was never gonna stop working on it.</p><p>But damn, it still gets to him how the senior operatives were so anxious (fairly so but still) or so stuck in their bitterness that they never paid attention to how <em> flawless </em>the flying was. How skillfully he maneuvered himself, so easily he worked.</p><p>Of course the General had to spend hours upon hours drilling safety measures into his head, and ensuring that he abided by a certain set of rules, and that he only executed true skill when the situation called for it.</p><p>It took time, but before he knew it Charlie was climbing even higher ranks, gaining respect from even brutal officers. Not <em> every </em>brutal officer. But a few. The good ones, if you ask Galeforce.</p><p>So Charlie was one of those people he’d always worked closely with. He was one of the weird ones. Hubert couldn’t help but like the military’s most underrated underdog- just some kid with a little starry-eyes ambition and raw talent.</p><p>“He was good. The government was desperate, but I guess they got lucky.”</p><p>Rupert nodded,</p><p>“He’s a damn good pilot… Where is he, anyways? Usually he’d be offering you a drink to refuse around this point in the night,” Rupert glances at his watch, 10 o’ clock,</p><p>“Yep. It’s almost always at 10. Where is he?”</p><p>Rupert Price never ceased to surprise the General with his observational skills. Price was similarly one of the unique ones. While the government has been seeing several problematic individuals upon limiting their restrictions, in the same way Charlie had been, Rupert was a sort of unique blessing you get when you change the rules. He shouldn’t have been able to be where he’s at in just a few months. But he climbed the ranks quickly, and while the restricted limitations let him, it was clearly his quick wit that got him into his position. He cared so much about everything all the time. No wonder he was so goddamn jaded.</p><p>The General looked at his watch as well. He spoke between a yawn,</p><p>“He went off to show our two blessings to a motel. Put him in charge of being their military-grade guide. He’s just making sure they get food and shelter for the night. Before we help them with a ride back to the states.”</p><p>Rupert nodded,</p><p>  “It’s a good thing they liked him so much. I didn’t think we could trust that thief after last time.”</p><p>The General scoffed in amusement,</p><p>“You didn’t think we could trust him from the start.”</p><p>Rupert seemed to blush at the memory of him being quite peeved at the whole ordeal. He’d went on a bit of a nervous tangent, explaining all the ways things would have or could have gone wrong.</p><p>Though the General tried to ease his embarrassment,</p><p>“You were right. If you hadn’t spoken up, we probably wouldn’t have had such a well-thought out Plan B that got put to use. Your revisions really worked in our favor.”</p><p>Rupert still blushed, though the General hoped it was in appreciative humbleness.</p><p>He breathed, as if to shake the rouge off of his cheeks,</p><p>“I think those criminals took a shining to him, anyways. He’s one of those people, who’s good with people, you know?”</p><p>“His own unique brand of charming.”</p><p>“You either love it or you hate it, so I hear.”</p><p>The General nodded. Rupert sipped on his whisky, speaking with his lips to his cup,</p><p>“If one person in the military is gonna make two ex-criminals feel at home, it’s Charlie.”</p><p>It was an odd tone, void of his usual bitterness but still laced with something on edge… If the General didn’t know any better he’d say it was subtle and near-silent envy.</p><p>But he knew better. So he didn’t say anything.</p><p>“So, I’m over here, brooding, just ‘cause I’m a very lame drunk, General.”</p><p>Galeforce considered those sips the ones that must have been the droplets of alcohol that muddied the line between tipsy and drunk and crossed it.</p><p>The General nodded,</p><p>“There are worse types of drunks to be, Price.”</p><p>He nodded knowingly, and took one last long sip before pushing his last glass away.</p><p>The General envied him slightly, and took one last swig of his orange drink.</p><p> He sat slightly closer to Price,</p><p>“Sounds like you get tired of being such a goddamn brood all the time.”</p><p>     Rupert smiled for once, if only because his sobriety slipped away for the moment.</p><p>The General couldn’t really hide his amusement,</p><p>“See? There it is. Not so above it all, after all.”</p><p> Rupert shrugged,</p><p>“Sure I am. Just wait til it’s most inconvenient.”</p><p>He laughed, and the General did as well, though he felt guilt for it. But it was true, Price picked the worst times to be difficult.</p><p>But, they were also the most important times to be difficult. And his words, nagging or bitter or argumentative, always seemed to make them better. Always put them over the edge.</p><p>“Well, we’re grateful for it.”</p><p>Rupert smiled still, but shrugged,</p><p>“Well it still sucks to be that guy.”</p><p>     Galeforce sighed,</p><p>“I’m sure it does.”</p><p> Rupert shrugged again, he made a <em> pfft </em> sound.</p><p>“There are worse things to be, though… Like a General, who has to rely on our asses gettin’ saved by two crooks.”</p><p>He said the words somewhat slurred, but as the General laughed he did too.</p><p>And then silence passed, the laughter and barking and banging from the booths began to dwindle, and so did Rupert and the General, their bittersweet words turning to soft silence, both tired and reeling from the events of the day, the drunken honesty was filled with the type of laughter necessary to keep from crying.</p><p>They breathed. Everyone breathed. And the lights were turned out, they went back to their base.</p><p>It was dark out, and they were so far from anything. When you got away from the lights they put up at the camp, and headed towards the hills not far, you could see the glow of the stars, white hot against the blue, a warm darkness.</p><p>They’d roamed towards their tents beneath these stars and this sky, drunken hums, and bone-tired giggles, voices cracked from overuse, the long day too long to remember, they’d each wandered into slumber, unlikely to recall doing so.</p><p> It was this late, around 2 AM, that the General viewed the glow of his phone, and bothered to let his tired fingers type away and offer a text to his top pilot.</p><p>     <em> Everything work out good? </em></p><p>He waited...</p><p>As he did he left the stars, and let his breathing slow, laid his head down on his own makeshift bed and rubbed his hand over his face.</p><p>Silence, a drink of water, and more silence.</p><p>Sleep crept up into his eyes, and he nearly heard his breathing slow before the glow of the phone nearly burnt his eyes,</p><p>      <em> Yeah, sorry, horrible signal up here. Just got this. We’re good. They were practically sleep-walking when we were in the check-in office. So I’m pretty sure they’ve klonked out at this point. </em></p><p>The General nodded to himself. He had no idea what those two had been up to prior to helping them in their mission, but whatever they’d done, they seemed tired from the get-go, according to Charlie.</p><p>     <em> Makes sense. Not used to a military schedule, huh? </em></p><p>Charlie responded quickly this time,</p><p>     <em> I hope not. I hope no one wakes up at 4:00 AM for fun. </em></p><p>The General smiled sleepily, he typed,</p><p>      <em>  Speaking of waking up at 4 AM, I’m going to have to let you get some sleep, so that you can let me get some sleep. </em></p><p>He responded,</p><p>      <em> Lameeeee. I don’t need sleep! All-nighters all the way! Besides, post-victories should not mandate 4 AM wake-up times. </em></p><p>The General was amused,</p><p>     <em> Please don’t pull an all-nighter after all that. If you try you’ll pass out at the base and it’ll be a lot of paperwork for me. </em></p><p>Charlie replied quickly,</p><p>     <em>  I apologized to everyone like a thousand times. At some point you’re gonna have to stop holding that over me. </em></p><p>Truthfully, the General was well aware that he probably overused the tactic at this point</p><p>      <em> Fine. At some point. But not now. Get some sleep, Charlie. It’s an order. </em></p><p>As if Charlie has ever been great with orders.</p><p>        <em> Alright, alright you win. If only cuz I mightttt be a teensy little bit tired. Barely. But don’t tell anyone. G’night General. :) </em></p><p>He sent a flurry of sleeping emojis.</p><p>      <em> Night, kid. </em></p>
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